


"The 6:25 To Phoenix"

by floralsuitian



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Before We Go (2014) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, EMT Ian Gallagher, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 07, Sexual Content, talks of mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralsuitian/pseuds/floralsuitian
Summary: He takes the train to work every morning, Monday-Thursday. Every morning he sees him. Sitting in the same spot as always. Just like he’s sitting in his same spot as always. He’s beautiful, mesmerizing, completely captivating. And he wants him. He wants to talk to him and get to know him and hold his hand and kiss him. Yeah, he wants to kiss him.One day he does. And that makes the future train rides more bearable. For both of them.
Relationships: Carl Gallagher/Kelly Keefe, Debbie Gallagher/Sandy Milkovich, Fiona Gallagher/Gus Pfender, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti
Comments: 31
Kudos: 74





	1. Him

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! I am once again writing a new fic lmao but this time, I'm going to stick with the two I have!!
> 
> This one's based on a film from 2014 titled "Before We Go" (if you've never seen it, I recommend it, it's very cute : ), and I'm very very excited about this one. I hope you all read and enjoy and look out for biweekly updates (if I can manage to keep up with them lol)
> 
> Enjoy and welcome to "The 6:25 to Phoenix"!

He sees him everyday. Waiting for the train to come just as he is. Standing in the same spot as always. Just as he is. 

He works for a web designing company in Phoenix. Illinois, not Arizona. Everyone always gets that confused when he tries to explain that he works in the same state, just an hour away. It’s a nice place and he enjoys it for the most part. The money’s good and every other weekend, he works as an EMT which is honestly his favorite part of anything. He enjoys helping people, enjoys being able to say “I saved a life today.” It makes him feel human again and with extensive medical issues of his own, it feels nice to be able to save a kid from jumping through a window or jumping in front of traffic during a low point in their life. 

Ian’s been there. Many times. Around the time he was getting used to his meds balancing out, he went to the bridge downtown and thought about how nice it would be to jump in with the fish. He thought they seemed to have a better life than he did, at least at the time.

He never really wanted to jump, but he contemplated it for several hours until a hit and run happened behind him and he saved the lady from her burning car and that’s when he knew that he wanted to save people. Wanted to help people. 

He got the web designing job after his brother referred him to the company. Lip was always the smartest one in the family but Ian had a bit of a brain when it came to marketing and designing websites. Him and Lip had done some teamwork on one when they were kids and that sparked Ian’s interest even more. Lip saw a spark in him that he had never seen before, one that ultimately faded when Ian got sick. 

Ian was always his happiest at work but he also enjoyed being with his family; more importantly his niece. He loved his niece the most. She was fun and carefree and always wanted to paint his fingernails even though he had told her many times that he couldn’t wear nail polish to work. 

_“Untle Ian, why can’t you wear it?”_

_“Cause kiddo, my boss will get mad at me.”_

She would frown and Ian would feel bad so he let her paint them once and she was so excited so he left it on for a couple days. It made him smile every time he saw how excited she would get over his painted nails. 

Today Ian sees _him_ again. That _him_ he always sees when he’s heading on the train to work. It’s the same time as it always is, 6:25am, when the train shows up at the station. It’s the same routine every morning: board train, two stops in Kenwood and another one in Chatham, before the final stretch into Phoenix. It felt like a longer trip than it was actually was but Ian enjoyed it. It was one of the only times where he could think and sit with his thoughts which was dangerous sometimes. But he would put in his headphones, turn up his music, lean his head against the window and just think. 

The buildings would whiz by on the ride to work and sometimes Ian would find himself sitting and thinking about things that were bothering him, sometimes he would think about his siblings and that one annoying thing Lip said to him weeks ago. 

Sometimes he would think about the last relationship he was in. For no reason at all. He would just start thinking about him. His name was Trevor and he had been one of the first guys Ian had felt more or less comfortable with. All the other guys he had been with had been over fifty and well...yeah, older men. 

It wasn’t really a mystery that his whole family had daddy issues. And mommy issues. Ian had been sleeping with older men for as long as he could remember. It kind of just happened. 

First there was Kash. He was his boss at the Kash N’ Grab for much of his adolescence and he liked him. Or at least he thought he did. 

Kash was married and had two younger boys, one that was Ian’s age at the time. He never really thought there was anything wrong with what they had. Until his wife found out about them. She was exactly okay with them hooking up with each other, as she had plans of her own. Which Ian found strange but hopeful at the time. 

Then there was Ned. Or Lloyd. Which happened to be the father of his older sister’s boyfriend at the time. He was going through a divorce and ended up in their house one night when Jimmy brought him back and tried to climb in bed with Lip. Long story short, it didn’t end well and Ian broke up with him not long afterwards.

He took time for himself for a while after that; there were a few guys here and there that were young, around his age mostly. And he liked them he supposed. 

There was Caleb. A firefighter who actually got him into the whole EMT gig. And then there was Trevor. The last person he was with. He was trans and worked as an LGBTQ rights activist trying to find good homes to house struggling and troubled youth. He was so good at it and it made Ian feel really good that he got to know someone like him. 

But it wasn’t meant to be. And Ian knew that. He knew it because none of his relationships were really meant to last. 

He always thought it was his fault. Why he couldn’t keep a healthy and steady relationship. He always blamed it on his illness. _Being bipolar._

_“Your bipolar doesn’t define who you are,” Taylor, one of Ian’s close friends had told him in the past, “it doesn’t make up the person you are.”_

She was right and Ian knew that. But he hated admitting it. Sometimes he really believed that his illness defined who he was. When he was on his meds, he felt normal. But it wasn’t the kind of normal that most people feel. It was the kind of normal that people with illnesses feel. Whatever that was. 

Now they're nearing Phoenix on the countless cloudy days they’ve witnessed this last winter in Illinois and Ian sees _him_ stand from his seat on the train. Ian’s music is still playing through his earbuds but he suddenly doesn’t hear it playing anymore. He feels like he only hears _him. Him_ and nothing else. 

He looks at him for a split second and it’s not much but Ian feels his heart skip for a fraction of a millisecond when he does. His eyes, he sees for that split second, are blue. With a hint of gray in them. A gray blue. 

Ian feels himself inhale when he sits right next to him. _Holy fuck. Holy fuck._

He scoots closer to the edge of his seat and holds onto the bar near the door as the train heads into town. He pauses his earbuds, the ones he completely forgot were in his ears, and winds them up to stick inside his bag. _He’s_ looking at him out of the corner of his eye and Ian tries not to avert his eyes in his direction for fear that he may not be able to look away. 

So he bounces his leg, nervously taps his fingers on the metal bar, chews on his lip, looks to his left to watch more buildings whiz by when _he_ begins to get annoyed. Ian can tell. 

But _he_ doesn’t...say anything. He just clears his throat dramatically and Ian stops bouncing his leg until he feels himself getting fidgety again and does it for the remainder of the train ride. 

They finally arrive at Ian’s usual stop; the woman’s voice over the intercom alerts them of the stop and Ian collects his things and makes his way out of the bustling train car along with several other people. Including _him._

Ian knows that he gets off at the same stop as _him._ But they never go the same direction. Ever. _He_ seems to disappear from sight the moment they exit the car, just like every other morning Ian sees _him._

Through the crowd of people _he_ goes, through the busy and bustling streets _he_ goes. Disappearing from Ian’s line of vision once again.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You get that blueprint done for the new website layout?”

Ian was sipping his coffee trying not to think of _him_ the whole time but it never actually works out for him. Ever. He’s always thinking about _him._

“Uh, yeah. It’s over...on the desk there,” Ian turns in his chair and points to the desk near where Talia’s standing. She turns on her heel and rummages through a stack of papers on the desk, rifling through until she finds the blueprint. It looks like it was done on a whim and she looks at it several times before looking over at Ian who’s mind is somewhere else as he scrolls through his phone. Talia clears her throat and Ian looks up quickly, setting his phone down on his desk and folding his hands over one another. 

“This is it?” Talia holds the paper up between her fingers and raises her eyebrows at Ian.

“Umm...yeah. Yeah, I...I only got so much done. Busy this weekend.”

“Saving lives and all that?” she chuckles, sitting in the chair across from Ian’s desk. 

Ian smiles. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Why are you working here if you work as an EMT? Doesn’t that like, make a shit ton of money?”

Ian looks down at the desk, picks at the skin around his nails, shrugs his shoulders.

“I mean, yeah. But...I enjoy doing both jobs. Plus I like taking the train. I’ve never taken a train until I started working here.”

Talia smiles at her friend and looks at the blueprint again. 

“Should I let you...work on this some more or...?”

Ian reaches across the desk to grab the blueprint from her and looks it over again. He sighs and sets it on his desk, looking up to meet Talia’s gaze. She smiles when he smirks at her. 

“I’ll have it to you by the end of the day.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The diner’s abustle with humans this morning. Mickey’s used to this but he’s also not even a little bit prepared for the amount of hungry people that are about to show up today. It’s a Wednesday afternoon; the afternoon lunch rush has a line almost out the door as patrons wait to be seated. A woman in a fancy business suit nearly throws a tantrum when Lisa tells her there’s now a thirty minute wait for a counter seat and she storms out of the diner. Mickey huffs and rolls his eyes at the exchange, refilling a gentleman’s cup of coffee who’s sitting at the counter and slides him the bagel he ordered. 

“She really wanted a damn counter seat that bad,” Lisa scoffs when her and Mickey are in the same vicinity. He chuckles under his breath and hands the check to a regular on the opposite side of the counter. 

“You know how it is,” Mickey tells her. She returns the chuckle and takes the order of a couple at the booth across the way. Billy comes in several minutes later, hurriedly trying to put on his apron and hairnet and Mickey quirks his eyebrow at him when he nearly knocks over the container of toothpicks at the edge of the counter.

“You’re late again,” Mickey says to him quietly. Billy nudges him in the shoulder and Mickey laughs. 

“My alarm didn’t go off again.”

“Carson’s gonna write you up if you’re late again,” Mickey wipes off a spoon on his apron and makes another pot of coffee.

“Yeah, I know, Mick. Just...did you cover for me?”

“Yeah, man. Like I always fuckin’ do.”

Billy takes a checkbook from the stack underneath the register and tucks it in the pocket of his apron, nudges Mickey in the arm again with his fist and makes his way to a table along the windows of the diner. Mickey shakes his head at his best friend and picks up a checkbook filled with a $6 tip. He tucks the money in his apron and carries the next order that’s ready to the couple across the way. 

Mickey’s been working at Greene’s for most of his life. Known for its steak and eggs and homemade mashed potato pie, the little hole-in-the-wall joint was started by husband and wife owners Sarah and Carson Greene who met in college and married shortly after their business took off. Mickey’s known Sarah since they were young, growing up on the South Side together and getting into trouble as they did. The three of them; Mickey, Sarah, and Sandy, Mickey’s younger cousin, did all they needed to get by. Sarah was one of the first to get out and when her and Carson started their restaurant business, Sarah asked Mickey to be their first employee. He thought the job was stupid at first and he didn’t really want to work an actual job considering he was “South Side”; but because he was close friends with Sarah and Carson (the perks he supposed), she offered him an assistant manager position if he worked for six months without getting into trouble. 

_“Well look at you go,” Mickey had said to her when he saw how well the place had been doing._

_“I’m giving you a chance to get out too, Mick. Just...take the job and we’ll have a deal,” she told him._

A year and a half later, Mickey was the assistant manager of Greene’s and had his own place, still living on the South Side but in a somewhat nicer portion of the Yards. He was happy he supposed. He was making good money, taking care of his cousin and his little sister who had gotten out years ago, and was even coming to terms more and more with who he was everyday. 

Mickey came out to Sarah when they were sixteen; her and Sandy were the first people to know about his sexuality and he wasn’t even entirely sure how he felt about it for a while. But he knew he liked boys from the time he was eleven. His first kiss had been with a boy in the school yard and the boy swore not to tell anyone if Mickey didn’t. They both kept their promises.

His name was Jack and years later, Mickey found out he had been arrested for soliciting and prostitution. A month later he passed away from AIDS and Mickey was messed up about it for a long time. His first crush, first kiss, the first boy he ever had feelings for, was dead.

After that it took a long time for Mickey to really be open about who he was again. He was scared. He was afraid of his parents would react to him being gay and although Sarah and Sandy knew of his sexuality, his parents knowing just seemed like a lot. It felt like a huge weight on his shoulders and one that he almost felt like keeping there. 

Mickey told his parents about his sexaulity when he was twenty. The day after his twentieth birthday actually. His mother’s answer was not at all what he was expecting; his father on the other hand, that was a surprise. 

_“Mikhailo, I’ve known for years. Your mother will get used to it, I know she will. Give her some time.”_

Mickey tried. He tried to give her time and it never worked out in his favor. His mother wasn’t exactly ecstatic about her only son being gay. 

Mickey thought about her a lot. More than he would’ve liked to honestly. Although she had practically disowned him, he still thought about her. He thought about her everyday. He wondered how she was doing. If her and his father were still together or if they had gone their separate ways much like her and Mickey had. 

“Mickey, you gonna take that table?” Lisa nudges him in the arm, breaking him from his thoughts. Mickey clears his throat and pulls out his pen and notepad.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’ll take it.”

He walks along the wall of booths until he reaches the end of the aisle where a blonde woman and a man with short brown hair are seated. There’s a baby sitting at the head of the table in a highchair and he’s eating fruit snacks. The blonde woman smiles at Mickey and tells him she’d like an iced tea to drink, the man a Dr. Pepper. Mickey writes down their drink orders before walking to the drink fountain to fill two cups. Lisa comes up behind him and pokes him in the side almost making him drop the cups. 

“Jesus, can you not?” Mickey laughs and sticks his tongue out at her before making his way back to the table. He hears Lisa chuckle behind him and Mickey shakes his head. He sets the drinks down on the table for couple and as he does, the man stops him.

“Hey, your uh...that Milkovich guy, yeah?” 

Mickey blinks at him and gives him a sideways smirk. Is he fucking with him?

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” he says, sticking his hands in his apron pockets, “do I know you?”

The baby in the high chair gurgles and the blonde looks to her boyfriend, husband, whoever he is to her. 

“No, we uh...grew up in the neighborhood together. I’m Lip.”

Mickey quirks his eyebrow at him. “Lip?”

“Gallagher?”

Mickey nods and opens and closes his mouth a couple times. It sounds familiar but Mickey’s not really one to pay much attention to last names.

“Uh, okay?” 

Lip blinks at him and then shakes his head. 

“Never mind, man. Sorry, I thought we knew each other.”

Mickey nods at him curtly then walks back to the counter, grabbing the plates sitting on the expo and taking them to the nearby table. 

“You know them?” Billy asks him when Mickey clips a piece of paper to the rotator for the next order. Mickey shrugs.

“Don’t know. Thinks he knows me but..”

“You own him some money?” Billy jokes and fills a coffee mug with the new pot of coffee. Mickey flips him off and Billy chuckles as he sets the coffee mugs on the counter for the customer.

Now that Mickey thought about it, Gallagher sounded familiar. And Lip. That name sounded familiar too. He wasn’t quite sure where or when he had the name before. The guy, Lip, had said they grew up in the neighborhood together. Gallagher, Gallagher…

Oh, shit. From Wallace Street. Frank and Monica Gallagher. They had like, six kids. 

Mickey sort of recalls them. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers Lip from school. They were in the same grade and had even been lab partners at one point. Mickey remembers that too. Lip was fucking smart as hell and had been on the honor roll a couple times. More than Mickey ever had been. 

Mickey vaguely remembered a redheaded boy who lived there with them. He remembers seeing him every once in a while; he was cute if Mickey recalled and he was pretty sure he was gay too. He remembers seeing him kiss a boy on the front porch and he looked happy. Mickey just happened to be walking by their house when he saw them at a glance. 

_Holy shit, the guy on the train..._

“Mickey?” Sarah snaps her fingers in his face, bringing him back down to Earth. 

“Shit. sorry. I...I was just…”

Sarah blinks at him and points to a table that needs to be cleared and he nods at his boss. She pats him on the back as he’s walking towards the table, grabbing a wet cloth to wipe up the glossed wood. He grabs a tub of dirty dishes and places the new set of dirty dishes into the same one, watching as the guy named Lip and the woman begin to head out of the restaurant. Mickey’s gaze follows them until they make their way out of the busy establishment. Mickey watches as Lip and the blonde’s hands intertwine while she carries the baby carrier in her other hand and he smiles, genuinely happy for the guy that he somehow barely remembers, as they disappear down the street, back to the train to head home, Mickey presumes.

Mickey finishes wiping down the table that he’s been standing at for the last three minutes, collects the dirty plates, then carries the dirty dish bin to the back of the house, setting it on the wash rack so the dishwashers can get their job done. He’s making his way back to the front when he stops by the locker room and leans against the wall to try and catch his breath for a moment. Five more hours. Only five more hours of this shit.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian shuts his computer down for the night, clears his desk, tucks the files into the file cabinet. He sighs and leans back in his chair for a moment and stares up at the ceiling. His phone vibrates on the desk and he reaches for it. It’s a text from Lip asking him when he’s coming home. Ian unlocks his phone and replies with _Around 7:30. Eat without me!_

He sends the text and tucks his phone in his pants pocket, stands from the chair, grabs his things before making his way out of his office. As he’s heading down the elevator, Talia heads in behind him and nudges Ian with her elbow.

“Worked hard today?” 

Ian shrugs. “I guess. Got the blueprint done for Gina, so hopefully it’ll be good to go tomorrow.”

“I knew you could do it,” Talia smiles at her friend, bumps him with her elbow again, and Ian grins at her confidently. 

“Got any plans when you get home?”

“Nah, just gonna hang out with the fam, eat some dinner. Franny got this new game for Christmas and she’s always wanting me to play it with her so I’ll probably get stuck playing it with her again,” Ian sighs dramatically. Talia rolls her eyes at him. 

“You love Franny, don’t lie.”

“She’s my best friend actually,” Ian chuckles. Talia returns it. The rest of the elevator is quiet until Ian says, “I saw _him_ again.”

Talia’s confused for a moment but then she nods slowly, adjusts her bracelet that she always wears on her wrist.

“Why don’t you just say something to _him_? ‘Hey we grew up in the neighborhood together, let’s fuck.’”

Ian nearly chokes on his own breath at her words, turning his head to look at her with his mouth agape as the elevator doors open to the lobby floor.

“I’m not going to say that to _him_!” 

“Why not? You obviously want to fuck him, so why not be upfront with _him_ about it?”

“I hear that’s a great way to start off relationships considering both my older brother and sister have been in countless shitty relationships.”

Ian and Talia put their coats and hats on and make their way out to the train, back to Chicago. Talia sighs and sways back and forth on the heels of her boots. 

“Look, I know that you had some off relationships and I know the whole thing with Trevor didn’t exactly go the way you wanted it to,” Talia starts as the train nears their stop, “but...I think there’s gonna be someone out there for you. Someone who’s going to love you and care for you. The way that you deserve.”

Ian looks to her, sticks his hands in his coat pocket. And he sees _him_ on the other side of Talia. His mouth falls open and Talia turns her head when Ian doesn’t answer her. She sees _him, Mickey,_ standing there and then looks down at her boots, smiling. 

The train pulls into the station and Ian looks away from _Mickey_ long enough to step onto the car of the train. Talia stands in front of Ian, her height just at his chest and _Mickey’s_ standing at the other end of the car. Ian hasn’t said a word in almost ten minutes and as the train’s pulling out of the station to head back to Chicago, Talia keeps smiling because she knows that Ian’s still looking at _Mickey,_ still looking at the one person Ian’s been talking about for weeks. _Years,_ actually. 

And as they pull into the L lot of the Chicago station half an hour later, _he_ turns to look at Ian and smiles at him, licks his lips, stares a little longer than he intends to. But Ian stares back at _him,_ follows _his_ gaze as he and Talia exit the car. 

“You’re so obvious,” Talia says when they walk the opposite direction of _him._

“What are you talking about?” Ian asks, his cheeks heating as they walk down the stairs to head home. 

“You were looking at _him_ the whole ride home, dude. You’re _so_ obvious,” Talia teases him and Ian rolls his eyes at her.

“He looked at me too, ya know,” Ian tries to back pedal and Talia turns to look at him, walking backwards in front of him. 

“I saw,” she grins. 

“Tal, he’s _cute,”_ Ian swoons, whining slightly. 

“You’re right, he totally is.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Ian asks her and she chuckles.

“No, Ian. I’m not making fun of you. I’m genuinely happy for you. And like I said, I think you should _talk_ to _him.”_

“I’m not talking to _him_ ,” Ian says; Talia looks up at him from under her eyelids.

“Not yet, anyways.”

Talia was right (sort of). It would be a few days before they would speak to each other, that fateful day at Greene's. However would be several _more_ days before they would speak to each other again. It was all worth it though.


	2. The Redhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey become social media pals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is here!!! In honor of 11x05 airing tonight!!! Hope you all enjoy!! 
> 
> \- A <3

Mickey’s scrolling through Facebook the next morning while he’s sitting on the couch in his apartment. He keeps wanting to search for the redhead that he remembered yesterday after the run-in with Lip Gallagher but he’s not even sure he remembers his name. He thinks it starts with an I but he could be wrong. 

Mickey taps on the search bar numerous times, trying to decide if he actually wants to find him. He knows what he looks like; he remembers that he takes the same train as him to Phoenix during the week so he knows that he has the reddest hair he’s ever seen. From far away, Mickey thinks his eyes are a greenish color, maybe with a hint of brown in them. Like a deep green. 

He has smatterings of freckles scattered across his face too, like he was kissed by the sun one too many times. Mickey smiles to himself as he finally decides to look for him on the app. What if he doesn’t even have Facebook? What if this all just fucking stupid and he’s just been sitting here on his couch the whole time about to be disappointed by the fact the the guy does in fact not have a Facebook account? 

He huffs and hesitantly types  _ Gallagher  _ into the search bar. Thousands of people pop up and Mickey scrolls through the countless results. When he gets bored of that, he types in  _ Lip  _ next to the last name and he gets a couple results. The top one is the one he’s looking for though:  _ Philip (Lip) Gallagher.  _ Mickey taps on the profile and sees that his picture is of him and the blonde woman. He taps on the photo: they’re both looking at one another and smiling in the photo. He sees that she’s tagged in it; her name’s Tami. 

Mickey hums and swipes away from the photo, finally going to Lip’s  _ Friends  _ list to see if maybe he’s on there. He remembers that Facebook labels friends by their first names and he sighs again before typing the last name in the  _ Browse  _ bar. 

Several people come up; Debbie, Fiona, Carl. And then the one Mickey’s been looking for.  _ Ian.  _

Now he remembers. His name’s  _ Ian. Ian Gallagher.  _

Mickey thinks about it; he shouldn’t be stalking him on fucking Facebook because this is so high school of him. But he also kind of wants to look at him. 

So he does it. He taps on the profile.  _ Ian  _ has a very aesthetic profile photo and a header of what he assumes is the place he works over in Phoenix. 

Mickey scrolls down the profile some more and resituates himself on the couch as if he’s getting ready to evaluate  _ Ian’s  _ entire Facebook profile. He scrolls through some of his timeline; he sees him with a girl named Molly and another woman named Sue. In every photo he has the brightest smile on his face. Mickey’s smile widens a lot when he sees the one of him and Sue standing outside a fire station.  _ Ian’s  _ wearing a paramedic uniform and is mid-laugh.  _ He’s an EMT too, holy shit.  _

Mickey keeps scrolling through his profile and sees that  _ Ian’s  _ been involved in certain LGBTQ+ rallies and it gives his heart a real kick.  _ He’s an EMT _ and  _ an activist.  _

That alone makes him so hot to Mickey. But he’s so hot in general.  _ Holy fuck.  _

He suddenly hears Sandy’s bedroom door open and he fumbles to close out of the app, turning his phone off and setting it on the coffee table as if he wasn’t just stalking the redhead on fucking Facebook. His cousin stumbles out of her bedroom just as he’s reaching for his coffee mug on the table. 

“The fuck you still doin’ home?” Sandy asks mid yawn and rubs at her eye with the heel of her hand. Mickey stands from the couch and takes his phone from the table, sticking it in his back pocket. He sips his coffee again. 

“I’m off today. The fuck you still doing here?”

Sandy shrugs and tugs at her messy bun on top of her head. She tugs her lip ring into her mouth and then smirks at her cousin.

“What?” Mickey says as he walks to the kitchen and sits his coffee mug in the sink. 

“You look like you’re up to something,” Sandy says and sits down at the kitchen table. 

“Not up to anything.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“Don’t you have a job to be at?” 

She shrugs again. “Don’t work until 1:30.”

Mickey looks at the clock on the oven. “It’s noon.”

“Yeah, and?”

Mickey rolls his eyes and takes his phone out of his pocket again. He taps his thumb against the side of the device and contemplates asking Sandy if she knows about the Gallaghers.  _ No,  _ his subconscious tells,  _ no, do not fucking ask her. _

“Hey, do you know anything about the Gallaghers?”  _ Well what the fuck? _

Sandy squints her eyes at him and rests her chin in her palm. “Sounds familiar, why?”

Mickey shakes his head and shuts his phone off again. “No reason. Look, I gotta run some errands so don’t eat all the fucking food in the few hours that I’m gone,” he warns her, pointing at her and walking towards the front door. Sandy chuckles and tugs her sweats up higher on her waist. 

“Shithead, I just told you I work at 1:30. I won’t even fucking be here.” 

“Did you hear me?” Mickey warns her again. She groans and rolls her eyes behind him. 

“Yes, I heard you,” she replies in a mocking tone. Mickey turns around and gives her a sarcastic smile before opening the front door. Sandy shouts “Love you!” as he walks outside and he replies with a “You too!” before heading to his car. 

He likes to drive, but not to work. It’s too far and wastes too much gas so he only uses his car for small trips to the store or to visit Billy. Him and Sandy have lived together for years and he doesn’t really speak to his family anymore so why does he even have a car in the first place? He likes to drive. 

Especially in the summertime. Chicago in the summertime is whole other fucking horror story. It’s hot and sticky and completely humid but there’s also so much to do. Like driving down the highway with the windows rolled down and the music blaring heavy metal and rock. 

Mickey kind of lied to Sandy when he said he had errands to run. Well he does, but not the kinds of errands one would normally run. He wanted to see if he could find out more about  _ Ian.  _

Before he drives out of the apartment complex, he looks up the station that  _ Ian  _ works at and puts it in his GPS on his phone before heading that direction. 

Station 14. Downtown Chicago.  _ God this is so out of line and fucking creepy.  _ The closer he gets to the station, the more and more he starts to regret this decision. He nearly turns around in a nearby neighborhood to go back home and stop stalking this dude but he  _ wants to know.  _ He wants to know what  _ Ian  _ looks like. He wants to know if it’s the same person he saw in the photos. The same person that he remembers from when he was a kid. 

He parks across the street, across from the station, like he’s on a fucking stake out. He deep sighs and grabs his keys several times to put them in the ignition but then stops the third time when he sees him.  _ Ian. Ian Gallagher.  _

He comes out of the station in his uniform. Mickey sees him pull a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and he leans against the building, lighting the end of the cigarette and pulling his phone out of his other pocket.

Mickey looks at him, stares longer than he intends to. But he looks at him and he just...well, he just  _ looks.  _

He’s gorgeous, from what Mickey can see through the windshield of his car. The red of his hair, his height, the way he smokes. Everything about him is, needless to say, captivating. He looks more gorgeous in person than he does in the photos Mickey saw of him on Facebook. And this is literally the dumbest shit he’s ever done but this is Lip’s fault for coming into his diner yesterday. Mickey wouldn’t be here stalking him outside his work if he hadn’t mentioned the last name.

Well okay, this isn’t really Lip’s fault. This is just Mickey being creepy as hell and wanting to see if  _ Ian  _ looks the way he remembered him. 

He does. He looks exactly the way Mickey remembers him. He smiles and finally starts the car for real; as he does,  _ Ian  _ looks over at the sound of the engine starting and Mickey closes his eyes and swears under his breath. 

“Shit,” he whispers and puts the car in drive. As he drives away from the station, he swears  _ Ian  _ looks at him, makes direct eye contact with him. And Mickey feels his heart kick in his chest as he drives down the street, back to his apartment to pretend like he didn’t just stalk  _ Ian Gallagher.  _

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t usually work on Thursdays, but today he’s not actually on duty. He decided to just come in and run the paperwork for Rita and clean up the station a little bit. He figured why not, since he was off from his other job today. 

He’s restocking the back of the ambulance and cleaning up the rig for their next run when Sue comes out from the back, his paycheck in hand. 

“Was gonna use this if you didn’t come and get it soon,” she jokes, waving the envelope between her fingers. Ian chuckles and reaches for the check while Sue smiles and grins at him. 

“Haha, hilarious,” Ian says and sticks the envelope in his back pocket. He finishes stocking the ambulance and Sue sits on the edge of the ambulance, watching her coworker as he closes up the compartments that are stocked. He wipes down the cabinets and looks over to see Sue smiling at him sweetly. He raises an eyebrow at her and asks curiously, “What are you smiling at?”

“Do you ever take a day off? Rest, spend time with your niece and nephew? Your family?”

Ian smiles and hops out of the back of the ambulance. 

“Once in awhile.”

“You work two jobs, you’re on medication. You sure you’re not doing too much?”

“I mean I’m taking care of myself, so…”

Sue narrows her eyes at him and Ian folds the rag in his hand, tossing it back and forth in his hold. 

“I’m taking care of myself, I promise,” he reassures her. She clicks her tongue at him and stands from the lip of the ambulance, closing one of the doors as Ian closes the other one. 

“I’m taking your word for it,” she says, placing her hand on his cheek and stroking her thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I’m gonna step out for a minute. Have a quick smoke.”

Sue nods and smiles sweetly at him again. She walks away from him and Ian’s gaze follows her as she disappears in the back of the station again. Ian smiles and looks down at his boots, tosses the rag in the dirty rag bucket, and makes his way out to the front of the station for a smoke break. 

It’s still a bit cold out for the middle of January but he should be used to these freezing cold winters in fucking Chicago. He’d lived here his whole life after all. Didn’t mean he necessarily enjoyed the freezing winters. So he bundles up in his coat, pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from one of the pockets. He pulls a cigarette from the pack, sticks it between his lips, then holds his hands in front of it to prevent the slight breeze from blowing the flame out. He lights the end then sticks the lighter back in his pocket, looking up and down the street as he smokes. He takes a puff and blows a plume of smoke up towards the sky. 

Ian always loved the sky but didn’t always take the time to admire it. He especially loved the formation the clouds; it was something he was always found calming, watching the clouds. Franny loved the clouds too. In the summer time, Ian would lay out in the grass in the backyard and stare up at the clouds as they passed over each other in the sky. One day his niece was playing in the yard and came to lay next to her uncle, her tiny body nearly a quarter of Ian’s height. 

_ “Untle Ian, what are you doing?” _

_ Ian had smiled and turned his head to look at his niece.  _

_ “Watching the clouds. You like clouds?”  _

_ “Mhm. Mommy says sometimes they form shapes. Like aminals.” _

_ Ian chuckled and nodded a bit. “Your mommy’s right. Look,” he points to one, “that looks like a bumblebee.” _

_ Franny had gasped. “It does!” _

_ Ian smiled again. “And that one,” he pointed to another one in Franny’s direction, “that one over there’s a triangle.” _

_ “A tri-andle?”  _

_ “A dorito,” Ian says and winks at her. Franny giggled and pulled her legs up so her knees were resting against her chest as she tried to point out more and more clouds to her uncle.  _

The clouds. Ian really loved the clouds. Today it was hard to find shapes because it was so overcast but at least he could still see them. 

He suddenly sees a car sitting across the street that seems to have been parked there for some time. He doesn’t really think anything of it until he hears the car start and begin to rev. He doesn’t really recognize the make of it or the person driving it so he keeps taking drags from his cigarette, blowing the smoke towards the sky again before pulling his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his notifications. 

Suddenly the mysterious car parked across the street pulls away from the sidewalk and drives right by him. And Ian does a double take. Or more like a triple take. It’s  _ him. Oh my god, it’s him. Wait, what the fuck? _

It’s Mickey Milkovich.  _ Him.  _

Ian nearly drops his half smoked cigarette onto the sidewalk when he sees him drive away. He almost follows him, believe it or not. He  _ wants  _ to follow him. But he can’t. That’s weird.  _ No, what’s weird is that he was parked outside of your fucking place of employment watching you like a fucking weirdo.  _

“What the hell?” Ian says to himself before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with his boot and making his way back into the station. He pulls his phone out of his pocket again and taps on the Facebook app. How the fuck else was  _ he  _ supposed to know where Ian worked?

He types his name into the search bar immediately upon reentering the station and clicks on the first profile that pops up. He scrolls through his feed and sees pictures of  _ him  _ with a woman whose name is Sandy and someone else named Billy. Close friends or family, Ian assumes. He continues scrolling and sees a photo of  _ him  _ and another woman standing next to each other behind a counter of what Ian narrows down to  _ his  _ place of employment.  _ Holy shit, the restaurant on 59th.  _ He  _ works there.  _

Ian shakes his head in shock and finds another photo of  _ him  _ looking out into the distance and smiling. Ian taps on it and zooms in on  _ his  _ face, smiling at the photo and feeling his heart pick up. Ian always knew  _ he  _ was gorgeous, he remembered seeing  _ him  _ in the neighborhood all the time when they were kids but Ian wasn’t even sure _ Mickey  _ had remembered him. He was wrong though, considering  _ he  _ had been parked outside his fucking work just now. Ian didn’t know if that was creepy or sweet of  _ him  _ to be stalking him at work; he went for the latter and closed out of the app, sticking his phone back in his pocket and smiling to himself. He didn’t work on Fridays but he decided he was going to see  _ him  _ tomorrow at  _ his  _ work. If  _ he  _ was even working tomorrow. Ian would take the chance. He had to at least try. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mickey pulls into his apartment complex again feeling like the biggest freak in the world for sitting outside  _ Ian’s  _ work a little bit ago. What the fuck was he thinking doing that? Stalking him like a fucking 17-year-old. He grumbles under his breath before climbing out of his car and making his way back up to his apartment. The door’s locked when he gets there so he assumes Sandy left early for work. He turns the key in the door, kicking it ajar with his foot and stepping inside. He tosses his keys onto the little side table by the door and heads into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He gulps down three glasses before setting the glass in the sink and pulling his phone out of his pocket again. He sees a Facebook notification:  _ You have a friend suggestion: Ian Gallagher.  _

He searches his name once and this shit happens. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he getting himself into?

He clears the notification from the screen then tosses his phone onto the countertop. He rubs his hands down his face and groans, trying to decide what he’s going to do for the rest of the day now since he’s off. He could mark _stalking_ _Ian Gallagher_ off the list. God, why the _fuck_ did he do that? 

He decides to try and get his mind off of the whole thing and sends a message to Billy asking if he’s working today. He gets a response within ten minutes; Billy’s working but he’s off at 4pm. Mickey sends him another message:  _ no worries, man. we’ll hang later.  _

Billy responds with a thumbs up emoji and Mickey locks his phone. Well what the fuck is he gonna do for the next three and a half hours?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I think  _ Mickey Milkovich  _ was sitting outside the station today,” Ian tells Lip later that evening when they’re sitting at the kitchen table. Lip stops chewing his food and looks up at his younger brother who’s picking at his potatoes and pushing them around his plate. 

“What, like...watching you?”

Ian shrugs. “Maybe. But not like...in a weird way.”

“Is there a non weird way to watch someone?”

Ian looks up from his plate and narrows his eyes at his older brother. He shrugs as if to say  _ Well…  _ and picks up his Coke, smirking at him behind the glass. 

“Well maybe he likes you,” Lip winks at him and Ian tosses a piece of mac and cheese at him. Lip chuckles at him and ducks out of the way in time for it to fall into his lap. Ian sighs and takes a bite of his food. 

“I dunno if I want that right now. You know...again,” he says. Lip knows what he’s talking about and he gets it. He didn’t think he’d ever find anyone again until he met Tami. She was the best thing that ever happened to him; they had all told him that. 

“I get it,” Lip replies, tapping his foot on the floor, “don’t gotta rush into anything at all.”

Ian nods, sighs. “After Trevor, nothing felt right. Like my mind just kind of…,” he trails off. Lip looks at him in worry.

“Shut down?”

“Mhm. All the way down.”

“You know none of that was your fault, right?” 

Ian shrugs again. 

“None of it was and if he made you feel as if it was, that’s on him. Not you.”

“Yeah.”

“Ian,” Lip reaches for his hand, “remember what we talked about.” 

He nods and sniffles. “Yes.”

“Good.”

They change the subject after that. Lip talks about how Freddie said his first word the other day (“train...would’ve liked it to be momma or dada, but train works too”), Ian talks about how him and Talia got their first website layout done and how he’s been doing with his EMT gig as well. 

Later that night, they’re cleaning up from dinner and Ian’s phone chimes from his pants pocket. He pulls it out to see a friend request notification on Facebook. From  _ him.  _

His heart kicks in his chest and he quickly puts the clean dishes away in the cabinet before debating whether or not to open the notification. He finally does but then stares too long at the “Accept” and “Cancel” options, going back and forth between the two for several minutes. 

He knew  _ him  _ from the neighborhood but never really spoke to  _ him.  _ Only saw  _ him  _ around once in a while, here and there. 

This felt strange but also good. Lip had told him to not rush into anything. If  _ anything  _ were to even happen. Yeah, they could start by being friends on social media. Why not?

Ian finally taps “Accept” and the words “You accepted this request” appear underneath  _ Mickey’s  _ name in the box. 

_ Holy shit,  _ Ian thinks to himself as he locks his phone and holds it against his chest.  _ Holy fuck.  _

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter: @floralsuitian


	3. Facebook Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!! Kind of ironic I keep posting on the day of the episodes LOL it's not intentional, I promise.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it was my favorite to write <33

Why did he do that? What the fuck was he thinking sending him a _goddamn friend request_ when he barely knew him? What the _fuck_ was he doing?

Mickey nearly throws his phone across the room after he does it, reaching over into his nightstand to grab a cigarette and lighter. He moves the ashtray closer to him and smokes out the window near his bed, trying to ignore the stir in his lower belly at the idea of _Ian_ seeing that he sent him a damn friend request. _This is so fucking stupid._

Within minutes, Mickey hears his phone chime from its facedown position on the floor and he looks over to it quickly, blowing a plume of smoke out the window and side eyeing the device as it chimes again. He really needed to get a fucking grip. 

Mickey finishes his cigarette then stubs it out in the ashtray, closing the window and climbing off his bed to retrieve his phone from the floor. He turns the screen on and sees that _Ian_ accepted the request. _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit._

Mickey feels his heart quicken in his chest and he blows out a breath at the notification on his lock screen. He runs his hand over the back of his neck and tries to think of his next move. He doesn't really know what the hell to do now. He wasn’t even sure that _Ian_ was going to accept the request, let alone remembered who he was. _Holy shit._

“Literally get a hold of yourself,” Mickey whispers to himself as he unlocks his phone and swipes over on the notification. He remembers that now that him and _Ian_ are friends, he can see more of his profile. He’s not really sure if he wants to but he’s also pretty sure that was his plan the whole time. 

So he does. He scrolls down through more of _Ian’s_ profile and sees photos of him with who he presumes are his siblings; he sees that Lip is tagged in one of the photos and him and _Ian_ are both laughing in it. 

_Ian’s_ smile is unreal. It’s bright and the corners of his eyes crinkle, his dimples pop into his cheeks, his teeth show and he throws his head back. It makes Mickey’s stomach flutter incessantly. 

He continues scrolling through _Ian’s_ account and nearly drops his phone on the ground when he hears a knock at his bedroom door. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he breathes out then answers snappily, “what?”

“Billy’s here for you.” 

_Shit._ He forgot he had asked Billy to hang out. He hesitantly closes out of the app and locks his phone then sticks the device in this back pocket. He knows Sandy’s still standing on the other side of the door because he can see the shadow of her feet underneath. He deep sighs and walks over to his bedroom door, throwing it open to see his cousin standing on the other side as he predicted, her shoulder leaning against the frame and her mouth busy popping a piece of bubblegum. 

“The fuck you still standing here for?” Mickey snaps at her again and she throws her hands up in defense. 

“Was making sure you heard me.”

“I heard you, now go away.”

Sandy scoffs at him and walks back out into the living room where Billy’s sitting on the couch drinking bottled water. He nods his head at Mickey as he comes to sit down next to him, nudging him in the shoulder as he flops down on the couch next to him. 

“What up, my man?” 

They fist bump and Sandy audibly groans from the kitchen. Mickey looks over and narrows his eyes at her. 

“Both of you are literally annoying.”

“I thought you were working today,” Mickey throws back at her.

“Short shift today. You realize it’s already 6pm right?” 

Mickey actually didn’t considering he forgot Billy was coming by. He scoffs at Sandy when she knowingly smirks at him and goes back to her business in the kitchen. 

“So,” Billy starts, “you seemed weird at work yesterday.”

Mickey leans back on the couch. “Did I?”

“Little bit. Something bugging you?”

Mickey shrugs again. “Got some stuff on my mind, nothing too major.”

Billy can see right through his shit but Mickey’s going to pretend like that doesn’t matter. He tries to divert his eyes to the back sliding door in front of them but it’s not working very well. Billy nudges him in the arm and Mickey blows out a breath, playing with his hands in his lap.

“You know you can talk to me about shit, Mick. That’s literally what I’m here for.”

Mickey’s not very good with words; he never really has been. He’s not used to exposing his feelings or getting sentimental with people. It makes him feel weak. Vulnerable. Like he’ll fall apart if someone pokes and prods trying to get information out of him. 

“Promise I’ll tell you if something is bugging me, alright?”

Billy sighs and tries not to poke and prod at him anymore. 

“So what’d you call me over here for huh?” 

Mickey turns his head to look at his best friend and leans his head back against the couch. 

“Got some weed that Sandy picked up.”

“We have to work tomorrow, man,” Billy chuckles. 

“So?”

_Billy’s going to see right through your shit, dude._

“You wanna tell me what’s really going on with you man?”

Mickey scratches his head and leans forward on the couch, groaning dramatically. 

“Alright, fine.”

Billy looks surprised; he wasn’t really expecting Mickey to tell him but he was also going to get it out of him at some point. Might as well do it while he’s still sober. 

“So,” Mickey turns his body to face him, putting his hands in his lap, “there’s this guy.”

Billy’s eyes widen and he also turns on the couch to look at Mickey better. 

“He...lives over on Wallace Street. Ya know...the one house with like 6 or 7 kids?”

“The Gallagher house?” 

“Yeah. That one.”

Billy raises his finger to say something at Mickey, then smiles.

“Isn’t the redhead who lives there gay?” 

Mickey clears his throat quietly and feels his cheeks heat a bit. Billy starts chuckling until it turns into full blown laughter and his head falls back against the couch. Mickey’s shooting daggers at him and Sandy comes into the living room from the kitchen looking at Billy like he’s lost his mind. 

“What the hell are you laughing about?”

Mickey averts his gaze to Sandy next and she throws her hands up in the air as if to say ‘what?’

“Wait, wait,” Billy says through his laughter, “are you like, crushin on him?”

“Jesus Christ, man,” Mickey says, rubbing the pads of his thumbs against his eyelids, “why are you laughing?”

Billy tries to come down from his laughter and tries to contain the smirk that keeps appearing on his face so he can actually have a decent conversation with his friend. 

“Okay okay, whoo,” Billy blows out a breath and relaxes his face again, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t laughing ‘cause of anything bad. I was only laughing cause like... _Ian Gallagher_?”

Mickey shrugs. Sandy’s eyes widen at him and walks closer to the couch, setting her bowl of cereal down on the kitchen counter so she doesn’t accidentally knock it over.

“Holy shit, wait. Is that why you asked me about the Gallaghers this morning? Did you go and _spy on him?”_

Mickey’s mouth falls open and then closes again, leaving Sandy and Billy to both look at each other like two kids in a candy store.

“Holy shit! You did!” Sandy screams, jumping up and down excitedly.

“You went to his house?!” Billy asks him. Sandy looks back and forth between the two men while Mickey looks like he just unveiled someone’s deepest darkest secret.

“Did you?” Sandy covers her mouth and tries not to laugh.

“Actually...his work,” Mickey mutters the last two words but Sandy and Billy hear him and burst into laughter again. 

“Fuck you guys, I just wanted to see if it was the same guy!”

“Please, this is the funniest thing I’ve ever fucking heard!” Sandy cackles and actually takes a seat on the carpeted floor. Billy rolls off of the couch onto his knees and leans over the other couch in a fit of laughter. Mickey groans and stands from the couch, walking into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge as his best friend and fucking cousin literally roll around on the floor in laughter. 

“I’m never fucking telling either of you anything ever again,” Mickey grumbles and walks out to the front porch, slightly irritated that his two confidants were essentially making fun of him for something that was genuinely terrifying for him. 

“Fuck you guys,” he whispers, sitting on the steps of his apartment and drinking his beer. After another ten fucking minutes of the two of them cackling like goddamn hyenas, Mickey finally hears them both calm down and the apartment door opens seconds later, revealing a very laughed out Billy. 

“Bro, I’m sorry about that okay? It was kinda funny, come on.”

Mickey glares at him and takes another sip of his beer. “Didn’t see me in there fuckin’ laughing, did ya?”

“Okay, no. I’m sorry, man. You just...you kinda stalked him,” Billy snickers again. Mickey grumbles and throws his hand head in his hands dramatically. Billy chuckles again and claps Mickey on the back gently. He sort of feels like crawling into a hole and never coming out of it but he’s also kind of glad that it’s out of the way, that they know now that he was fucking _stalking Ian Gallagher._

“I just wanted to see if it was him,” Mickey says, lifting his head from his hands. Billy gives him a sort of solemn look and then smiles at him. 

“You could’a done that without being a weirdo ya know.”

“He didn’t see me...I don’t think.”

Billy snorts and Mickey groans again. 

“Look man, I’m just glad you have a crush again. When’s the last time you were into someone, like 6 years ago?”

“It’s been a while, yeah. And he’s not a crush, you ass.”

“It’s a little bit of a crush,” Billy pushes his fingers together to indicate how much ‘a little bit’ is and Mickey flips him off.

Mickey kind of hopes that _Ian_ comes into the restaurant tomorrow. He’s pretty sure _Ian’s_ work isn’t that far from it. Does _Ian_ work on Fridays? He literally doesn’t know but he’s almost hoping he comes in tomorrow. 

He’s more than hoping. He _wants_ him to. He wants _Ian_ to come in because he wants to see him again.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t do it,” Ian says Friday morning while he’s standing in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. Molly had come over that morning to bring him a muffin as she normally would do on her way into work and was met with an overly panicked Ian going off on a tangent about _Mickey Milkovich._

“Look, I barely know the guy. I literally remember seeing him around the neighborhood when we were kids and that’s literally it. I don’t even know him.”

Molly takes a bite of her muffin and wipes the crumbs off of her lips, trying not to laugh at her friend.

“So what’s your point here?”

“I cannot go and see him at work. I can’t do that.”

“Who said you had to?”

Ian takes another sip of his coffee and looks down at the kitchen floor. 

“No one, but...I was going to. And then I kept thinking about it and then I over-thought it and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay. Well, I have to go to work now, quit being a spaz, get on the train, and go see him. Cause we both know you want to.”

Ian tries to stop her as she heads to the back door, but she’s quicker than him. 

“Molls, I can’t--”

“Go see him, Ian!” she calls as the door shuts behind her. Ian sighs and drinks the last bit of his coffee before setting the mug in the sink. He was too anxious to eat so he puts the muffin in the bread box for now so he can eat it later. He leans against the counter and pulls his phone out of his back pocket, seeing a text message from Lip and one from Talia telling him that the presentation for the website _‘went absolutely fantastic!!!’_ He responds with a _‘yes!! I knew it would!!’_

The message from Lip reads _don’t pussy out now_ and Ian groans, not even bothering to respond to that one. He knows Lip’s talking about last night after _Mickey_ sent him the friend request and he’s really not in the mood to listen to his brother tell him what he needs to be doing. 

“Not gonna pussy out,” Ian says quietly to himself as he puts his phone back in his pocket and begins to pace back and forth in the kitchen. He looks at the clock on the wall above the stove; 10am, and he picks at the skin on his lip. 

He’s not gonna do it. He’s not going to stalk _Mickey_ at his work. 

_You mean like_ he _did to you?_

“Fuck off,” Ian says to his subconscious and looks at the clock again. 10:02am. No, he’s not going to do it. This is so stupid. He’s not going. He’s not. 

10:04am. 

Fine, he’s going. He’s going to go and stalk _Mickey._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian remembers basically nothing except walking out the door and ending up on the Yellow Line out to Phoenix, the same train he takes to work. The same train him and _Mickey_ take together.

The city’s whizzing by as he nervously taps his fingers against his thigh and leans against the pole near the seat where he usually sits. The same seat from where he can see _Mickey_ in his horizontal vision. 

Ian smiles at the floor of the train as it nears the stop and he feels himself getting more and more nervous the closer he gets. He’s not sure why; he takes this exact route 3-4 days a week for work. It’s different this time though; he’s not going to work, he’s going to attempt to see the guy he’s suddenly crushing on. The same guy who happens to be crushing on him as well. 

He feels his heart kick in his chest at the feeling of seeing _him_ in person. _If_ he even sees _him._

The train comes to a stop at 56th as it usually does when Ian gets to Phoenix. He hears the woman’s voice over the loudspeaker indicating the stop and the train doors open just as Ian walks up to them. Ian steps off the train and heads in the direction of _Mickey’s_ work. _Oh my god, what the hell is he doing?_

It’s cold outside but not as cold as it has been for the last few weeks in January. Ian still cups his hands and lifts them to his lips to blow warm breath against the skin.This is so dumb, why is he doing this again? Why did he decide that this was a good idea again? 

_Because_ he _did the same thing to you, that’s why._

“Keep reminding me,” Ian says quietly to himself again as he walks down the wet sidewalk to Greene’s. He honestly could not believe that _Mickey_ worked at this place. Not even 20 minutes from where Ian worked himself. It was like...what was that word that Fiona used?

Kismet or whatever the fuck it was called. Yeah, that word. Like it was meant to be. 

Ian rounds 58th and starts to feel his hands sweating even through the cold. He’s starting to regret doing this. What if he’s not even there? What if this was all just a waste of his Friday morning and _Mickey’s_ not even working today?

Ian sees the restaurant on the other side of the street when he reaches the intersection and contemplates for 10 more minutes if he should go inside. Several people pass by him as he stands in the middle of the sidewalk, sticking his hands in his pockets and bouncing on the balls of his feet in his Vans. 

“Shit,” he whispers before finally looking both ways and crossing the street to Greene’s. From what Ian can see, it’s hella busy inside already and it’s only 11am. He takes a deep breath and opens the door. He’s immediately greeted with the smell of coffee and possibly burgers and fries. There looks to be a whole crew of employees today and Ian has yet to see _him._

A young woman who looks to be no older than Ian greets him at the door and asks him ‘how many?’ Ian looks confused for a moment and then says “Oh, it’s just me.”

The woman hands him a menu and leads him to a small table with two chairs on opposite sides of each other and he takes a seat. She says “A server will be right with you,” smiles, and walks away. Ian scoots his chair in and rests his hands on the table on top of his menu and looks around at the bustling restaurant. He doesn’t see _him_ anywhere and Ian thinks about leaving when he makes eye contact across the restaurant with a man who looks like _him._ It is _him. Holy shit holy shit._

Ian feels his heart race in his chest and _he_ makes his way over to Ian’s table. _Oh my god oh my god oh my god._

He gets closer to the table and Ian leans back in his chair, taking in _his_ white dress shirt, black slacks, and black Vans with _his_ little apron around his waist and _he_ pulls out a notepad as _he_ nears the table. 

“Hi,” _he_ says and _his_ voice sounds like fucking silk. Soft and smooth and warm and Ian thinks he’ll melt into the table right then and there. He probably looks like a fool sitting there staring at the guy he used to see in the neighborhood all the time, up close and personal, but Ian doesn’t care. _He’s beautiful. His_ hair is dark, _his_ skin has a slight tan to it, and _his_ eyes are these beautiful pale blue color. This feels like love at first sight to Ian, although he won’t get too carried away with that yet. 

Ian clears his throat before looking up at _him_ and repeating a soft “Hi” in response to _his._

“You must be Ian.” _He_ smiles and Ian feels gone for him already. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m Ian. And...you’re _Mickey.”_

 _He_ chuckles and then looks down at the notepad in _his_ hand, playing with the click of the pen in the other. 

“Umm...how’d you know I worked here?”

Ian smiles at _him_ and crosses his arms over his chest. “Same way you knew where I worked.”

Ian swears he sees a slight blush creep up on _Mickey’s_ cheeks and he laughs softly at _him._

“Fuck, you saw me?”

Ian nods and then leans forward again, folding his hands over the menu. “Don’t even worry about it, it was cute.”

 _Mickey_ blushes again and clicks the pen in _his_ hand again. 

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

It’s strange how their exchange feels normal, how it feels like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Which in a way, they have. Just not personally. 

Ian wants to reach for _his_ hand and hold it, wants to play with _his_ fingertips and feel how soft _his_ palms are. Wants to hear _his_ heartbeat and _his_ breath and touch _his_ face. 

This feels right and Ian’s not sure why, but he _does_ know that _Mickey’s_ the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter: @floralsuitian


	4. Just Diner Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey Milkovich is a little bit more enthralling than the mashed potato pie Ian's eating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What up pals!! Here's a new update that's a bit overdue; I've been dealing with some personal stuff the last week but I'm finally starting to feel a bit better so I thought I'd finally knock out this chapter!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!! Leave comments, kudos, whatever you'd like!! Happy reading friends!!

Mickey can’t move. He feels stuck in place, like his feet have been cemented to the linoleum behind the counter of the restaurant. His ears feel like they’re ringing and his vision feels blurry as he sees him. _Holy shit, oh my god._

It’s _Ian. Ian Gallagher._ In his fucking restaurant. Sitting at a table waiting to be served. 

He could hear that Johnny was trying to get his attention but he was too busy staring at him, sort of hoping he would look back at him.

“Yo, Mickey.”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry.”

“You good?” Johnny throws a rag over his shoulder and wipes his hands off on his apron. Mickey nods and as he looks back to the table, _Ian’s_ looking at him this time. _Holy fuck._

“Table 6 needs a server,” Lisa says to the two men as she walks behind the counter to refill a cup of coffee. Mickey doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing his notepad from the inside of his apron and suddenly feeling his feet moving across the restaurant floor. 

“I guess Mick’s got it,” Lisa chuckles and Johnny shakes his head as he watches Mickey walk towards the table where the single red headed man is sitting. 

They don’t break eye contact when Mickey gets closer to him. Their eyes stay locked on one another as if the other can’t believe they’re in the same vicinity as the other. When Mickey nears him, he can see a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, around his knuckles and up and down his neck. His eyes are green with a hint of gray, his lips are shiny like he applied chapstick to them before entering or maybe he just had shiny lips in general. 

He’s gorgeous, for a man. Mickey doesn’t think he’s ever found any man gorgeous necessarily; _Ian Gallagher_ is the exception though, he thinks. 

_Ian_ leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest when Mickey stops at the table. He nervously pulls out his notepad and blows out a breath as he utters a simple “Hi” to the beautiful man sitting at the table. _Ian_ smiles at him and Mickey’s knees nearly buckle from the sight of it. 

“Hi,” _Ian_ repeats and Mickey’s gone. He’s done for already. His voice is nothing like Mickey was expecting; it’s soft and gentle and feels like home. How in the fuck is he sitting here right now speaking to him, looking at him, existing in front of him?

“You must be _Ian,”_ Mickey smiles at him. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m _Ian._ And you’re Mickey.”

Mickey chuckles and looks down at his notepad, clicking a pen in his other hand nervously. 

“Umm...how’d you know I worked here?” 

He’s really hoping that _Ian’s_ not the stalker type simply because both of them being stalkers would be really fucking weird and probably not the best for them should they continue running into one another. 

On the other hand, _Ian_ stalking him as well would make Mickey feel a whole hell of a lot better. 

“Same way you knew where I worked,” he says, smirking at Mickey and leaning back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest once more. Mickey feels his cheeks heat and tries to hide it but it doesn’t really work out well in his favor. 

“Fuck, you saw me?” 

_Ian_ nods his head and laughs gently, leans forward and rests his hands over the menu in a folded position. 

“Don’t even worry about it, it was cute.”

 _Cute_ wasn’t really the word Mickey would use but he’ll run with it. He nervously clicks the pen in his hand again and feels his stomach flipping in the best way. 

“You sure?”

 _Ian_ answers with a simple “Mhm” and Mickey feels his shoulders relax. Their eyes meet again and _Ian_ smiles sweetly at him. 

“I can’t believe you’re here right now,” Mickey says and _Ian_ chuckles. 

“I was sitting in my kitchen this morning debating it over and over again before I decided that yes, I wanted to come and meet you,” he says.

“Your brother was in here the other day. Told me he knew me but I had no fucking idea who y’all were for a minute.”

 _Ian_ chuckles again. “That’s surprising honestly.”

“Is it?”

Mickey nods and smiles. He honestly doesn’t know what to say. He can’t seem to find any words except for the few he’s already said. He’s in complete awe that _Ian fucking Gallagher_ is sitting here talking to him, looking at him, smiling and grinning and _existing._

“So what’s good here?” _Ian_ picks up the menu and looks it over while Mickey clicks the pen in his hand and flips the notepad over to a clean piece of paper so he can take _Ian’s_ order. 

“Mashed potato pie and steak and eggs is our specialty,” Mickey tells him and _Ian_ nods again. 

“I’ll try the mashed potato pie then,” he says. Mickey jots down his order on the notepad and smiles, sticking the pad and pen back into his apron pocket. He takes _Ian’s_ menu from him and sticks it under his arm but doesn’t make a move to leave the table. 

“What?” _Ian_ asks him when he looks up to see Mickey still staring down at him. 

“Oh, uh...nothing. Just...nothing. I’ll...be right back with your water,” Mickey says awkwardly and _Ian_ smiles at him, blowing out a soft breath as Mickey turns to walk away. Mickey squeezes his eyes shut and mumbles under his breath as he walks to the expo and slips _Ian’s_ order on the line. Lisa and Johnny are both standing near the coffee station chuckling under their breath at the exchange they just witnessed between Mickey and the guy at the table. 

“The fuck’s up with you two?” Mickey asks as he grabs a cup from the clean dishes and begins to fill it with ice and water. Johnny snorts again and throws a rag over his shoulder. 

“You know that guy?” Lisa points to _Ian_ and Mickey tries not to look over at him. He’s afraid he won’t be able to look away if he does. 

“Sort of, yeah,” Mickey answers, facing the expo and waiting for _Ian’s_ order so he only has to make one trip to his table. Lisa and Johnny share a look while Mickey makes no move to look at either of them. 

“Care to elaborate?” Lisa asks. 

“Y’all ask so many fucking questions,” Mickey exasperates as the cook sets his order on the expo. Mickey quickly grabs the very warm plate and the glass of water, ignoring Lisa and Johnny’s quiet snickering as Mickey makes his way back to _Ian’s_ table. 

“That was fast,” he says as Mickey sets the food down on the table in front of him. Mickey smiles at him and wipes his hands on his apron before stepping back from the table so he doesn’t seem like a creep trying to crowd him. 

“Uhh...let me know if you need anything else,” Mickey says and _Ian_ smiles up at him, nodding.

“Thank you, I will.” 

Mickey nods once more and turns on his heel to walk away. He can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are sweating slightly as he sticks them in the pockets of his apron. He’s seriously hoping that Lisa and Johnny are not still standing behind the counter because he doesn’t want to fucking deal with them asking five thousand questions about _Ian Gallagher;_ his prayers are partially answered when only Johnny is standing at the expo waiting for his table’s order but he can see a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. 

“If you say one fucking word,” Mickey says through his teeth, pointing at Johnny. Johnny snorts and then puts his hands up in defense at Mickey’s words then sticks his notepad in his apron pocket. 

“I’m not saying anything, man.”

Mickey huffs and leans against the counter, trying his best not to draw attention to the situation. He looks over to _Ian’s_ table again, trying not to make it so obvious that he’s literally watching him eating. God, why the fuck is he being so weird about this?

“However you’re really bad about not making it obvious,” Johnny says to him as he walks by. Mickey glares at him and Johnny walks away quickly before Mickey can smack him up against the head. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian’s trying to enjoy his food, but he can’t help himself from staring at _Mickey_ every once in a while. Just as _Mickey_ is also staring at him from _his_ position behind the counter.

It wasn’t like Ian had never seen _Mickey_ in person, because he had. But it was different seeing _him_ up close and just... _there._ Speaking and smiling and walking and just existing in front of him. Ian didn’t understand why he was so blown away by the simplicity of _Mickey Milkovich._ He wasn’t really sure what was so enthralling about seeing him in _his_ work uniform or why he thought it was so mesmerizing to watch _him_ walk around in this fucking busy restaurant, but Ian was incredibly enthralled by _him._ He was absolutely certain that _Mickey Milkovich_ was the most beautiful person ever. 

He already decided that over forty-five minutes ago as he sits and eats the mashed potato pie that is quite possibly, the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten in his life. He’s taking a drink of his water when he sees _him_ walking back over to his table. There’s a small smile on _his_ face and Ian smiles back.

“How is everything?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Good.”

Ian chuckles and scratches his chin with his thumb.

“So umm...this is kinda weird,” _Mickey_ starts and looks away from Ian’s plate, “I was umm...wondering if you’d like to...get a drink sometime…”

Ian smiles at _him_ again and leans back in his chair, looking up at _him_ and watching a slight blush creep onto _his_ cheeks. _He’s_ about the cutest thing Ian’s ever seen, he’s so sure of that.

“I’d love to,” Ian says moments later. _Mickey’s_ eyes avert back to Ian’s and a small grin etches its way onto _his_ lips. 

“O-okay then. Cool.”

“Cool.”

He watches _Mickey_ pull a piece of paper out of the notebook in _his_ apron pocket along with a pen, and _he_ smiles at Ian again before setting the paper down on the table and writing a number down across the top in slightly scratchy writing. _Mickey_ slides the piece of paper over to Ian after writing it down; Ian takes the piece of paper between his fingers and looks it over, smiling and folding it in half to stick in his pants pocket. 

“You can just...text me when you want to,” _Mickey_ says to him and scratches the back of his head. Ian nods and smiles again. 

“I’ll do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter: @floralsuitian !!


End file.
